A Crystalline Existence
by Wind Child
Summary: This is a crossover of T.A. Barron's Merlin and Peter Pan by James Barrie. Merlin somehow finds himself on Neverland, where he must rely on Peter and his Lost Boys for a number of things (much to his discomfort). Hope you enjoy! R/R
1. A Convergence of Worlds

A Convergence of Worlds 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this! There is only one character in here (so far) that belongs to me. The rest of them belong to James Barrie, T.A. Barron, and Disney. A lot of the information in this story is not mine either- also gotten from the said owners. I got some of the other things from the movie Hook (I know that may not have been the most accurate choice, but it happened to be convenient and just what the story needed). 

Merlin awoke to an assortment of aromas, among them the scents of breakfast on the hearth, his mother Elen, his sister Rhia, and the only too familiar but ever-present smell of Arbassa. But there were other smells too: the wind blew the scent of the entire Druma Wood in through the window. Merlin took a deep whiff of all the smells combined into one. 

As was usual when he woke up, Merlin's right hand was on the shaft of his staff, his fingers wrapped around it like a baby's around its mother's index finger. Gradually his fingers broke away from the wood and stretched outward to their farthest extent, his palm still resting on the hemlock bough. Merlin sat up and rubbed his sightless eyes. "Good morning, Rhia," he said, addressing the leafy figure crouched over the hearth and presumably attending to breakfast. She straightened and shook her mahogany curls from her eyes, saying, "Good morning yourself, Merlin." 

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Peter had gone up to the top of the treehouse, balanced on the railing of the balcony, and crowed at the top of his lungs to greet the new day. He let it echo with a small grin of satisfaction. He leaped off the railing and soared away high above the trees, feeling the cool morning air blowing on his face and whistling past his pointed ears. He heard a bird call from a tree somewhere below, and then another, and another, and another, and yet another. Peter was definitely a morning person. Come to that, he was an all-day person. You would always find him up at the crack of dawn and staying out late in the night, getting the most out of every day and living life to the fullest. Since Hook had gone, there hadn't been much to work toward, so these passing days were lazy ones. But for some reason, as Peter soared through the sky, he felt some presence on the island. Something that was there that shouldn't be. Something dark. Peter shrugged it off, thinking that Tink must have played some kind of prank. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help thinking that one side of the island looked different than the rest of it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Merlin stood and said to Elen, "Good morning, Mother." Elen smiled up at him from her needlework. "Hello, Merlin. I trust you slept well?" she said brightly. Merlin hadn't. His night was full of fitful dreams of a wild boar and a boy in green with pointed ears. But he wouldn't tell her that. "Yes, I did, thank you," he said, but his second sight was focused on the woods outside. He could see through a gap in Arbassa's ancient branches that the day was promising and the light was growing. He thought back to his dream. There were two people; one he knew, the other he didn't. The boar he knew only too well; he was the spirit Rhita Gawr, an evil but powerful entity who was constantly at war with Dagda. The other, the boy, he did not know, but found interesting, because the boy had the power to fly. Another curious thing about him was that he had been fighting Rhita Gawr. The dream had been nothing but a blur of colors and voices after that. Merlin mentally shook himself, and told himself that this boy might not even exist. But his subconscious self said But wait, haven't all your other dreams about Rhita Gawr come to life in one way or another? Why should this one be different? I don't know, Merlin thought back, but I won't spend my days waiting for it to come true and then miss it completely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Peter had been flying for some time before he heard the bell calling the Lost Boys to breakfast. Peter wasn't very hungry, but he went back anyway just to say hi to the gang. He landed catlike at the edge of the courtyard next to the treehouse, and someone shouted,"Hey, Peter!" He knew that voice. It was Squirt, a new member of the Lost Boys. He saw Squirt at the edge of the breakfast table, beckoning frantically and pointing to the seat on his right, which was Peter's accustomed place at the end of the table. Peter drew a deep breath and calmly strolled over to sit adjacent to Squirt. Lately, it seemed, Squirt had been tagging along wherever Peter went, if it was on the ground. It was like having another Shadow, only this one talked. Peter hated to admit it, even to himself, but a talkative Shadow was definitely a step backward. 

Of course, immediately after Peter sat down, Squirt had begun to chatter as fast as his tongue would take him, but Peter had become so accustomed to this that he had almost naturally been able to half block it. Regrettably, he couldn't block it out entirely because he didn't want Squirt to think he wasn't listening, and some of the things Squirt said required an answer. Just then, the food arrived, which consisted of twenty or so assorted dishes. Peter stood, and all got quieter as everyone took their places. "It's time to say grace,"he announced, looking around the table. Everyone then shouted at once,"GRACE!" and began to savagely grab for a portion. Luckily for Peter, Squirt came from a family with manners, so he didn't talk with his mouth full, which was another bonus, because Squirt's manners did not extend to the part about not stuffing your face. Because Peter didn't take much, he was finished early, and he left the table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Merlin sighed. Breakfast was ready now, so he went to eat. Rhia had prepared a dish of assorted cooked fruits drenched in berry juice and rolled in mint leaves. It was very tasty, and they all sat down to dine and engage in conversation about their plans to spend the day. Rhia, because it was the dry season, was going down to her garden to begin the seemingly impossible task of watering her shomorra tree. Merlin, upon reflection, realized that he had no specific plans for today, so he would help her. Elen was going down to the southernmost seashore to find a rare kind of coral which, when burned, was said to create a scent so lovely the wood nymphs would leave their trees just to sniff the air. She needed to speak to the wood nymphs and ask them where best to find one of her herbs which just the other day had been growing in abundance just west of the Druma, but had mysteriously disappeared. When Elen first told of her predicament, Merlin sat back and pondered what could have made them stop growing. He didn't have time to ponder long, because Rhia had just proposed that they begin walking to the shomorra tree, which was on the opposite side of the Druma from Arbassa. Merlin had a twinkle in his eye when he looked slyly at Rhia and said,"You know, I could pick up the pace a little bit-" but he was interrupted. "No, Merlin," Rhia said firmly,"I don't want to end up in Eagle Canyon. Your powers aren't strong enough yet." Merlin protested, feathers ruffled. "My powers have been getting a lot stronger every day. I can handle it. It's just a little Leap. We won't end up in Eagle Canyon, or anywhere else that isn't your garden." Rhia looked at Merlin. Merlin looked at Rhia. Rhia sighed. "All right," she said," but I want you to Leap there and back first, just to be sure you can." That was good enough for Merlin. He would show her how much his powers had developed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Peter breathed deeply of the fresh morning air. But then his smile faded, for he had gotten the merest trace of a smell he had not detected in Neverland before. It was, without a doubt, the scent of death. He took off for Tink's place; this was not one of those flights he wanted to make alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Moments later, Merlin was outside Arbassa with his staff. Rhia was standing a few feet away, watching closely. Merlin briefly fingered a symbol on his staff, a circle containing a star; it was the symbol of Leaping. Everything is connected to everything else. Merlin had spoken these words himself just over a year ago. Well he remembered that day. And well he remembered the folly he caused and endured to learn this skill, among many others. This time, he knew, he would not cause as much trouble. Merlin readied himself. All around was quiet. Merlin called upon his powers, not with words, but with willpower. He saw the image of Rhia beside Arbassa flicker, then disappear. 

Across the woods just split-seconds later, Merlin reappeared. He swiveled on the spot, trying to find out if he made it. And then he saw the topmost branches of the shomorra looming above the trees to his right. He gave a loud whoop of joy, and within seconds, was gone again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Peter found Tink still asleep in her bunk and decided against waking her. Not wanting to lose any more time before the Lost Boys got up, he took off into the sunshine. He flew for a considerable amount of time, but the smell didn't seem to get any stronger or fainter. It was almost as thought the entire island gave off the dank odor. Peter thought back to the dark area he had seen and decided to pass over that area, just to be sure. He made a slight alteration in his course and zoomed off into the steadily growing light. 

In no time at all, he found that remote corner of Neverland, still as dark and forbidding as he had left it. In fact, the very trees seemed to ward him away, saying Beware.... beeeewaaaare... So he did. For now, anyway. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Little did Merlin know, when he made his second Leap, a door to another place opened. This other place was another in between place, not quite of Earth but not quite of the Other World. And it was to this place that Merlin Leaped, though he didn't know it until he'd finished Leaping. 

When he landed, it was in strange surroundings. Again, he turned around, wondering where he was. Nothing looked familiar. Even the smell was altered. This was not the Druma Wood, or even Fincayra for that matter. Merlin called out,"Hello?" but to no avail. He stood puzzled for a moment until he spontaneously marched off into the brush, searching for some clue as to his location, calling out every now and then. 

A thought struck him after a few minutes of fighting through the shrubbery. Ask the trees. They'll know where I am. Merlin found a friendly-looking spruce and put his hand on the bark, feeling the pulse of life flowing through it. He opened his mouth and out came the swishing language of the tree softly uttering a question. The answer came some time after. Merlin couldn't distinguish words at first, but eventually the rustling took on a regular cadence. Neeeveeerlaaand....Neeveerlaand... Neverland... Merlin thanked the tree and stepped away, careful not to trip on the roots. 

Merlin noticed a shadow that passed over him; he looked up and hollered, but saw nothing. And then something truly strange happened; the shadow stopped, stood, and looked directly at Merlin. It was in the shape of a boy with pointed shoes and a pointed cap, not quite as tall as a wizard's cap, but still pointed. The shadow cocked its head; if it had had a face, Merlin was sure it would have been studying him. Then the shadow, as if it had come to a conclusion about him, began to beckon Merlin to follow him. Merlin hesitated, thinking he might be being lured into a snare. The shadow persisted, so he followed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Peter was aimlessly meandering hither and thither when he noticed that his Shadow was missing again. Peter slowed and dived lower until he was just over the trees. He darted here and there, calling softly,"Shadow... Shadow!" with not much luck. Peter didn't know at what time he lost it, so it could be anywhere. He was concentrating so much on finding his Shadow that he didn't even hear the rustling coming from up ahead until it was too loud to miss. He stopped in midair and watched alertly the shrubbery, trying to see if it was an animal, his Shadow, or something else altogether. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Merlin followed the Shadow through the forest, dodging low branches and stepping over fallen ones, which lay strewn on the ground. All of a sudden, the Shadow stopped, as if uncertain about the safeness of continuing. It motioned for Merlin to be quiet, which he did without knowing why. Then it peeked around an enormous healthy oak, and abruptly pulled back out of sight. 

Merlin heard a young voice calling uncertainly,"Shadow?" Merlin stepped out from behind the tree and came face to face with the boy he saw in his dream the previous night. Merlin was shocked; never before had his dreams come to life this quickly before. He was sure that the look of surprise on his own face was a carbon copy of the expression on the boy's face. They spoke the question in unison. "Who are you?" Then the boy began to laugh, and even Merlin couldn't suppress the smile that curled his lips. 

Then Merlin noticed something else. The boy was floating in midair. The boy said,"My name is Peter Pan. What's yours?" Merlin had been gaping at the large space between the boy's feet and the ground, but was snapped out of his reverie by the boy's words. "Oh... My name is Merlin," he managed to say while still sounding casual. "I heard you calling for someone named Shadow, right? Well, I think you'll find him somewhere over there." Merlin nodded his head toward the tree that he had just been hiding behind not three minutes ago. Peter glanced in that direction, but made no sign of going over there. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Merlin. "So, who are you really? I mean, I know your name's Merlin, but who are you?" he asked. Merlin replied,"I'm... a foreigner. I don't know how I came to Neverland, but I was attempting to Leap when I was transported here. Now I have a question for you. How in Dagda's name are you floating in midair?!?!" Peter grinned and chuckled to himself. "With a little pixie dust and a happy thought," he answered matter-of-factly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Merlin raised one eyebrow dubiously, but said nothing in reply. 

Peter said,"Well, that really should be enough questions asked, but I have one more. Are you hungry?" Merlin shook his head. "I had breakfast already. And since you got one last question, I have one. Where exactly is this place?" Peter sighed. "Well, that's complicated. In the summer sky, Neverland is the second star to the right. I'm afraid that's all there is." Merlin did a doubletake. "Wait, did you say that I Leapt to a star?" he exclaimed. Peter nodded. Merlin tried to look nonchalant, while inside his head thoughts zoomed back and forth in an excited frenzy, like air bubbles in a pot of boiling water. If he had Leapt that far, then he must be able to get back. But what if it hadn't been his powers that got him here? Merlin met Peter's eyes and was surprised to find them full of laughter. Merlin bristled, angry that this Peter could laugh at him when he was so uptight. 

Peter abruptly turned his face skyward, looking at the sun's position in the sky. He said to Merlin,"If we don't get back soon, the Lost Boys will send out a search party. We'd better head back." Merlin glanced back at the tree, and Peter said,"Don't worry about Shadow," and then raised his voice,"I'll catch him later." Then he looked at Merlin, looked at the ground, and lightly landed beside Merlin. "I guess I'd better travel at your speed if I don't want to lose you," he said, and with that, started off into the trees with Merlin dejectedly following. 

There was a question that was still gnawing at the back of Peter's brain, but he resisted posing it to Merlin because of impertinence. Peter had never been known to be overly polite, but he wasn't considered rude, either. He decided that he would ask it when they were able to talk more informally. 

After about ten minutes of straight trekking, Merlin still hadn't tired. He was used to extreme traveling on foot; it was the way Rhia preferred to travel, and she was able to keep going at an incredible pace for long periods of time. Merlin half smiled at the memory of the times that Rhia had nearly lost hime because he couldn't keep up. After a few times of being outstripped by her, Merlin had been working on being able to keep up with Rhia's virtually untouchable speed. 

Peter took out his pipes and began to toot a cheerful little diddy while still retaining his speed. "Hey Merlin," he called over his shoulder,"you keeping up back there?" He swiveled his head to check on Merlin, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found that Merlin was almost on top of him. "How'd you get to be so fast on foot? I always find that it's much more convenient to fly," he said quickly. Merlin shrugged and said,"Traveling on foot is my main method of transportation... except for the times when Rhia lets me Leap." Peter cocked his head."Who's Reeah?" he asked. Merlin replied simply,"My sister." 

Merlin didn't know why, but he felt that he could trust Peter for now. And when he considered his situation, what other choice did he have? Merlin's intuition had never served him very well; it had been known to lead him in so many wrong directions before. But he had been spending so much time with Rhia that perhaps some of her intuition, flawless as usual, had rubbed off on him. Or perhaps it was just his own, leading him down another wrong path. Whatever it was, he was going to go with it, and if it was wrong, well... he would worry about it later. 

After another few minutes, they came to a small clearing. There, directly in front of them, was a tree that contained a treehouse that was so very well hidden in the branches, Merlin almost thought that he beheld Arbassa. But when Peter flew straight up to it and through one of the windows beckoning for him to follow, Merlin sighed, slowly trudged up to the gargantuan trunk, and began to climb. 


	2. Unexpected Secrets

Unexpected Secrets  
  
When Merlin arrived in the treehouse, Peter was piping again and dancing around, weaving in and out of a crowd of boys and dwarfing most of them. Merlin cleared his throat, and Peter looked his way, tooted one last note, and drew the reeds away from his lips to say, "Oh, you're here. Hey, boys! ATTENTION!" The noise immediately ceased as all the children stood up straight with their fingers on their foreheads. Peter also straightened and gestured at Merlin. "This," he said in a stern tone that was betrayed by the twinkle in his eyes, "is Merlin. He'll be staying with us for a while. I don't think he plans to become a Lost Boy, so don't any of you try one of your 'initiation processes.' Are we clear?" Peter glowered sternly at each one of them, who nodded meekly in turn. Then Peter himself nodded and barked, "All right! Dismissed!" The clamor resumed to the level of deafening.   
  
Peter strode over to Merlin. He said, "These are the Lost Boys. They're kids who didn't like their families and ran away for one reason or another. Every now and then we pick up a greenie, who is then put through the 'initiation process', which usually involves getting up at the crack of dawn to perform a number of situation tests. It's nothing to worry about, really; I've told them not to, and they usually do what I tell them to." Merlin looked dubious, but said nothing, which was good, because he would have been interrupted by someone saying in a high, squeaky voice, "Hi, Peter!" Peter turned his head to the side, rolled his eyes, turned back, and said in a dull voice, "Hullo, Squirt." Merlin looked around for the speaker, but saw no one. Then he glanced down and saw a small, skinny boy who looked to be about eight or nine years old. He was wearing a squirrel-skin hat over ruffled dark hair, his skin was pale and freckled, and his enormous blue eyes were turned on Peter like spotlights on an actor, following his every move. Merlin grinned in Peter's direction, knowing it would embarrass the redhead.  
  
After his greeting, Squirt had begun pelting Peter with question after question about where he'd gone, why he'd been gone so long, what had happened to his Shadow, and other indistinguishable inquiries. Merlin noticed that Peter seemed to be only half-listening. Instead, he looked as though he was searching for someone or something. Once, Squirt paused to take a breath, and in this gap, Peter said, "Squirt, can I get back to you on that? I promise I'll tell you later." Squirt put his bottom lip out in a pout. "That's what you said last time," he said, the disappointment in his voice impossible to miss. Peter said slyly, "This time's story will be even better than last time's." Squirt brightened. "Promise?" he squeaked. "Promise," Peter said firmly. "Ok!" Squirt chirped, and he skipped off to join a game of toss-and-tumble. Peter smiled after him for a few seconds, then looked at Merlin, who had not stopped grinning at him. Peter self-consciously grinned back, and then resumed his search of the room.   
  
"What or whom are you looking for?" Merlin wanted to know, giving Peter a quizzical look. Peter replied bluntly, "Tinkerbell."  
  
"Tinkerbell?"  
  
"My friend, the pixie."  
  
"You have a pixie friend?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Merlin thought it strange that a pixie, a common creature, was living here, on an island on a star, but he refrained from asking. Instead he leaned on his staff and watched the boys beat each other up in a dog pile on the floor. He just barely noticed when Peter left the room, and Merlin craned his neck to watch after him. He beheld Peter tiptoe up to a small clock suspended in midair by a number of vines. The clock had a hatch open where the face would've been, and it was through this that Peter peered, whispering in a barely audible voice, "Tink? You awake yet?" Merlin heard a stirring from within the clock, a small groan of complaint, and then silence. Peter smiled amicably. "C'mon, Tink, it's time to wake up. The day's half gone. Besides, there's someone I want you to meet," he said, his voice getting louder as the sleeping pixie woke up.   
  
Suddenly, there was a flash of light from inside the clock, which burned brightly for a split-second, then dimmed, as though someone had struck a match. Four tiny fingers curled delicately around the edge of the hole, one at a time. Following the fingers came a tuft of bangs, a round forehead, two rapidly blinking eyes, a snub nose, and a tiny mouth. The miniscule person suddenly burst from the hole in flight, giving exercise to her brightly glowing wings, which left a small trail of pixie dust when she flew. This was surely Tinkerbell.   
  
Tinkerbell landed on Peter's waiting shoulder with the daintiness of a butterfly. She looked Merlin up and down, as if summing him up, and then she turned her head and spoke softly in Peter's ear.  
  
Peter said, "Merlin, this is Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell, this is Merlin." Peter nodded to each of them in turn.   
  
Merlin smiled at the pixie, but his smile faltered when he saw the stony look she gave him. That look clearly told Merlin that she didn't trust him, and he didn't blame her much.   
  
A bell sounded somewhere. Peter's face lit, and he said with relish, "Ooooh, good. It's time for the game. C'mon, Merlin, I'll show you the ropes." With a grin, he turned and led Merlin away.   
  
"The ropes" turned out to be about twenty vines hanging from a ceiling of clay and roots. The floor was made of the same clay, trampled and hardened into smoothness.  
  
Peter began to explain the complicated game, but then gave up at a loss for words. "Just watch, Merlin, you'll get the idea after a while. Once you get it, you can jump in when you feel like it, all right?" he said, and without waiting for an answer, disappeared into the swarming crowd.   
  
Before Merlin's eyes could fully grasp what they were seeing, the walls began to move. No, they weren't moving, they were undulating. No again, the walls weren't undulating at all. There were people climbing all over the walls, and as Merlin looked closer, he recognized them as the Lost Boys.   
  
A whistle sounded, and all lay still. Not even a breeze stirred the vines hanging limp from the ceiling. No one fidgeted. No one spoke. No one even breathed. Then a whistle sounded again, and the air filled with the sound of battle cries and war whoops.   
  
The myriads of Lost Boys were stripped from the walls as they leaped toward the center vines. They grabbed the vines and tried to attack their neighbors while still remaining suspended. Merlin then noticed that each of them bore an orange rag tied around their waists. The boys seemed to be aiming to steal each other's rags, and those that lost theirs were trudging dejectedly out of the arena. Merlin supposed this was how the winner was decided, and he opted to stay out of this one, just to see what the outcome would be.   
  
As the game wore on, more and more boys, sadfaced and ragless,  
  
joined those lined up against the walls to watch and cheer. Peter, Merlin observed, was still in the center, tumbling and wrestling with the rest. The fight intensified as the minutes ticked by.   
  
Finally, there were only two left, Peter and another boy about Peter's size. They were both on their feet, using just about any technique they could come up with. They dropped and rolled on the rag-strewn floor. They stood and headlocked each other until they turned blue. Yet still the orange sashes remained tied.   
  
As it progressed, the other boy seemed to be using fiercer and fiercer techniques. He almost had his hand on Peter's sash once, but the Pan was too quick for him.   
  
Peter soon proved that he had a few tricks up his own sleeve. In one instant, he was hand-fighting the kid, the next, he had made a small leap and grabbed one of the low-hanging vines, his goal being to attack from above. They crashed to the floor.  
  
It wasn't until both had regained their balance that Peter showed how far he could truly go. Merlin himself was only barely able to catch it. The boy made a dive for Peter's feet, or rather, his waist, but when his shoulder had nearly collided with Peter's midsection, the boy found himself charging the air. He crashed to the floor. Peter, it seemed, had dodged to the side and hit him in the back, causing him to fall to the ground. Or so it seemed. Only Merlin knew what really happened; he surmised this from the looks on everyone else's faces, which hadn't changed a bit. What Merlin saw was this: Peter was about to be flattened, he panicked, disappeared, and reappeared a fraction of a second later right next to the still-suspended attacker and hit him. Merlin stood, dumbfounded, not because Peter's ability was exceptionally strong, but because he could perceive no magic from him. He stared at Peter as though his eyes must be deceiving him; Peter couldn't have done that without using some kind of magic. He leaned on his staff for support, thinking that he would definitely ask Peter about that as soon as this match was over.   
  
As it is with all things, the match was over too soon. Peter emerged triumphant; Merlin was told this happened on a regular basis. The air reeked of sweat, and Merlin's midnight bangs clung to his forehead. As everyone slowly filed out of the arena, Merlin fought his way towards Peter, who was surrounded by a pack of cheering and scrambling Lost Boys.   
  
"Pan!" shouted Merlin over the ruckus.  
  
Peter turned as best he could to look at Merlin. "What?" he yelled.   
  
It took him a while, but Merlin finally reached Peter's side after the crowd of boys dissipated enough to let him through. Merlin was quite out of breath, and it took him another few minutes to get out, "How'd you do that?"   
  
Peter looked bewildered. "How'd I do what? I won the match, see?" he answered, holding up the other boy's sash, which he had been holding since the end of the match. He was still wearing his own.   
  
Merlin put his hands on his hips and gave Peter a look that said You-know-what-I'm-talking-about-but-you-don't-want-to-tell-me.  
  
Just then, Peter sank beneath the sea of heads with a jerk. Squirt had thrown himself on Peter, squealing, "You won! You won! You won!"   
  
The surprised and struggling Peter choked. "Uh... Squirt... you're strangling me!" he managed. Squirt's eyes widened apologetically and he immediately leapt off. Peter massaged his throat, gasping for air. "Thanks," he said breathlessly but gratefully.   
  
Peter turned to Merlin. "Now, what were you talking about? How'd I do what?" he repeated.   
  
Merlin replied, "How'd you do that move? You know, when he leapt at you, you disappeared, and then reappeared right next to him! Tell me! How'd you do it?" As soon as Merlin had said the word "disappeared", Peter's eyes widened in a panic, and he looked around frantically as though Merlin had revealed a tabooed secret. After Merlin finished, Merlin then added, "What's wrong?" Peter took hold of Merlin's arm with the grip of death and dragged him to a deserted corridor that broke off from the main arena.   
  
Peter glared accusingly at Merlin. "How much did you see?" he demanded.  
  
"So it's true?"  
  
"I didn't say that."  
  
"Oh, yes, you did."  
  
"How did you see that?" Peter cried. "Nobody can see that! Whenever I do it, everybody sees me do some kind of fantastic dodge!"   
  
Merlin, however, was not going to let up. "How'd you do it? Just tell me how you did it, and I'll tell you how I can see it," he bargained.  
  
Peter looked at him scrutinizingly, eyes narrowed. "There's something different about you. I knew it from the moment I found you, but I couldn't put my finger on it. All right, I'll tell you. It's a feint. I learned it from Tink. That's all! Now tell me how you can see it!" he finished in a hurry.   
  
Merlin replied, "That's not good enough. What kind of feint?"   
  
Peter sighed. "Tink taught it to me. She said all it took was just a little wish to be someplace else, and the pixie dust I use to fly would grant my wish. Of course, it only works for short distances. Now answer my question!"   
  
Merlin nodded, satisfied. "Okay, I guess it's my turn. When I was young, I lost my eyesight. I was given the second sight. My eyes are useless, but I can perceive things, colors, movements." Merlin paused, unsure of how much he dared reveal and uncomfortably aware of Peter's hawk like eyes boring holes into him. Twisting the base of his staff into the looser dirt at his feet, Merlin took a deep breath and continued. "I can't see as well as a person with normal eyesight, but I can see some things they can't. Are you satisfied?" he asked, distracting himself by running his hand along the gnarled top of his staff, releasing its familiar spicy scent of hemlock into the air. It was then that Peter noticed Merlin's eyes. They didn't seem to look directly at anything, and yet he knew everything was there. Peter could not help but be amazed, and he wondered what other surprises Merlin kept hidden. As Peter looked closer, he saw that Merlin's eyes were not entirely powder blue like most blind people's eyes. Instead, Merlin's eyes were black like the night sky, with tiny flecks of gold here and there.   
  
And then Peter answered him, "No. There's still something you're not telling me. What else?"   
  
Merlin hesitated, once again uneasy. *How would Peter take all this?* he wondered. He inhaled, a deep, steadying breath. "All right," he said finally, "I'll tell you. But you can't tell anyone. Not even Tink. If someone else needs to know, I'll tell them. Got it?" Peter nodded eagerly. *I'm going to regret this,* Merlin thought. "Well, I... uh... I have certain... gifts. Gifts that were inherited from my grandfather that I can control at my will. I'm not sure if that's what you sensed from me or not, but that's all there is to tell you. You see, they're not... uh... properly trained yet. I'm still kind of learning." Merlin decided that that would have to be enough for Peter for now, because he daren't reveal too much. He also didn't think that Peter's eyes could bulge anymore without falling out of his head altogether.   
  
Peter brought his voice down to an awed whisper, "You... you can do magic? Real magic?" he gasped.  
  
Merlin shifted and mumbled, "I knew I'd regret it. Yes, I can."  
  
The younger boy nodded, straightened, and said, "One more question." Merlin braced himself. "How old are you?" Peter asked. The question caught Merlin off guard, and he started. "I'm fifteen," he replied incredulously, taken aback by such a normal question.   
  
Once he regained his composure, Merlin asked, "Now about that 'feint.' How did you do it if you didn't use magic?"   
  
Peter replied, "Well, I sorta picked it up out of nowhere. I think it came with learning how to fly."  
  
Merlin still wasn't satisfied. "Could I fly?" he asked.   
  
Peter answered him with a laugh in his voice, "Of course! Like I said, just think of something that makes you smile, and sprinkle some pixie dust, compliments of Tinkerbell."   
  
The two boys grinned at each other. Merlin asked of Peter, "How old are you?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I mean, I've never really tried to keep track of how long I've been here. I guess time passes, but in Neverland, everything stays the same, and you never grow up."   
  
Merlin stood in puzzled silence. "You... you mean... you never grow older?" he stammered as the truth hit him like a blast of wind. "Nope!" Peter piped cheerfully.  
  
"Oh. Have you been here a long time? I haven't been on Fincayra very long. I can't even call it my home." Merlin sighed a sigh of longsuffering in remembrance of the arguments that had been held between the inhabitants of Fincayra about his staying there.  
  
Peter looked at him pensively, then asked, "Where's Fincayra?" Merlin looked up. "It's... well, I'm going to use someone else's phrase to describe it. It is neither wholly of Heaven nor wholly of Earth, but somewhere in between. Have you heard of the ancient Greeks?"   
  
Peter thought for a moment. "Nope."  
  
Merlin scratched his head. "Well, then it's kind of like this place, I guess. You say time is different here; well, in Fincayra, time is the same, but different things can happen there that wouldn't be considered normal by Earth standards. Does that make sense?"  
  
Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess.  
  
"We should probably head back for lunch. But first, I'll make you a deal. If you tell me more stories about this Fincayra of yours, I'll teach you how to fly. Are we agreed?" he requested, offering his hand to Merlin. The latter eyed it, then shook it with a smile accompanied by a nod. "Good!" exclaimed Peter. "Now, let's go!" A cheerful wind stirred the trees, ruffling Merlin's tunic and hair. Peter leapt off the ground, paused in the air, and performed a smooth loop-the-loop in midair. Merlin couldn't help but marvel at the way the boy was so used to having his feet so far from the ground, but he wasn't about to tell Pan that. Rather, he started off towards the treehouse, and the accompanying shadow told him that the elven-eared boy was not far behind.   
  
Once again, Merlin fended for himself for lunch, while Peter once again tried to convince him that Neverfoods weren't so bad once you got used to them. Merlin, however, decided that he would fare much better with a bush of blackberries, which turned out to be prickly but rather good.   
  
Upon his return, he found the boys and Peter in what Merlin supposed was the commons, holding a rather spirited belching contest. Merlin listened for a while and thought about joining, but his windpipe had decided to take a break, so he wasn't exactly going to win.   
  
Peter noticed him at the door and called to him, "Hey, Merlin, come on in. There's plenty of room." Merlin looked skeptically around at all the occupied chairs and cushions and remains of sofas, and took a spot on the floor.  
  
One of the Lost Boys eyed him for a moment, then said, "Hey, what's that?" The boy, the one that had almost beaten Peter in the game, was pointing to Merlin's staff.  
  
Merlin gripped it compulsively. "It's a staff," he explained. "It helps me walk."  
  
"You mean you can't walk by yourself?"  
  
"No, that's not it. I can walk,, it's just--well, I don't want to go anywhere without it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I like it."  
  
"Oh. Kinda like a teddy bear?"  
  
Merlin was getting irritated with trying to be evasive, but he knew he had virtually no choice. "Well, I suppose it is sort of like a teddy bear."  
  
The boy's face contorted into a grin, and Merlin instantly knew that he had said the very wrong thing. "You have a teddy bear?"  
  
Merlin frowned. "Does this look like a teddy bear to you?" he began angrily, but the boy didn't hear him.   
  
"HEY! POSSUM'S GOT A TEDDY BEAR!!!"  
  
Suddenly, Merlin found himself being dogpiled by a mass of arms, legs, and (worst of all) sticks. They wrestled him around for a while until Merlin discovered that, during the fray, someone had taken his staff. In a pause, he looked up frantically and saw that it was the boy who was almost Peter's size. He stood there, holding Merlin's most prized possession in his hands and staring down at Merlin with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Beg, Possum," he said simply. "You have to beg to get it back."  
  
But Merlin would have none of this. In a rush of adrenaline, he tossed off the two or three boys that clung to him and waylaid two more. He fought frantically towards the kid. *Idiot!* he thought. *He doesn't know what he has there! There's no way he could know!* 


End file.
